He may not go by the same name, or even look anything like Santa as we know him, but in his many different guises he’s still the children’s Christmas favourite in many parts of the world, writes Tom McParland

 

Around Christmas every adult must momentarily ponder the origins of that jolly old man who an eternity ago arrived in Christmas darkness in answer to those incinerated notes they’d tried throwing up chimneys. Then the fact that to childish imagination he proved his existence by leaving toys Christmas after Christmas seemed miraculous.

Everybody recalls the magical mirage that the flick of a light switch brought: an instant confirmation that – like the girl in the L’Oreal ad – we were worth it – especially 1950’s children whose parents didn’t indulge in emotionalism. So this red-suited international visitor did the job for them. Children regarded Santa as though he were a saint. And of course that’s exactly what he was – both saint and children’s saint.
Santa had more faces than a set of Russian dolls, could change his language and instantly become part of another culture. Anywhere there was a scribbled request or an anticipant stocking to be filled there he was.

Saint Nicholas, the original Santa, was a 4th-century Greek Christian bishop in the Lycia region (today’s Turkey) of the Roman Empire. Very religious from an early age, he devoted his life entirely to Christianity at a time before the conversion of Emperor Constantine when Christians were being persecuted in the Roman Empire.
Recently at Liverpool John Moores University, using modern technology, scientists recreated a startling likeness of St Nicholas complete with a broken nose, likely caused by injuries received while standing up for his faith.

Regardless of centuries’ hearsay distorting the most devout of saintly doings, Nicholas’s kindness to children and his urging them to say their nightly prayers has remained a constant down the centuries. Good reputations fly faster than time. At his canonisation in June 1446, over a thousand years after his birth, St. Nicholas was credited with hundreds of miracles, but posterity had long before made him a saint.
It’s little wonder that his doppelgänge Santa Clause roams the world as though St. Nicholas were a living person. He has at least 56 different names, travels through continents at 3,000 times the speed of sound, yet the only sonic boom his evident presence causes is the racing pulse of millions of children across the globe come Christmas morning.

Nordic Santas
Tomte or Jultomten is a figment of Swedish folklore – a dwarf-like creature resembling a garden gnome guarding farmhouses from bad luck. Although originally he was associated with the devil, Jultomten has become conflated with Santa Claus. Come Christmas, an adult family member will dress up as Jultomten then ask, ‘are there any good children who live here?’ Ask a silly question … before distributing his sack of presents.

The Norwegian Julenissen in folklore are very similar to the Swedish Jultomten. Once known as Christmas pixies, the Julenissen were traditionally barn devils who would act as spirit guardians over farms. Nowadays, Julenisse comes from the North Pole but, unlike Santa, a Julenisse wears grey clothes and has a grey beard instead of a white one. But he fools no one – for kindness knows no colour.
Of course like Sweden and Norway, Finland is also overflowing with perfectly mannered kids. Nevertheless, they have to undergo an exhaustive, three-second probing by Finland’s Yule Goat before he makes with the presents. Contemporary portrayals of the Yule Goat are usually made out of straw, like the famous Gävlebocken in Gavle, Sweden, which has been ignited in a blazing pyrotechnic display; this is one goat Scandinavians never mount.

In Iceland, instead of having twelve days before Christmas, Iceland has thirteen. It also has thirteen Yule Lads – originally a mischievous Icelandic elf family with a cannibalisticly inclined mother, Gryla. The Yule Lads also played tricks on children.

Pottasleiki the pot-licker for instance might steal your leftovers and, should you behave badly, Mother Gryla might kidnap you and you’d end up in her cooking pot.

The family also has got a matching Yule Cat – Jólakötturinn – that lurks through Iceland during the entire Christmas period. The Yule Cat, a stickler for sartorial elegance would reputedly eat anyone who hasn’t received new clothes by Christmas Eve. However, these days during the lead-up to Christmas, Icelandic children have softened the Yule Lads and their cat so much you’d be forgiven for mistaking them for Santas.
And so children place their shoes by the windowsill in the hope that they will be left small gifts or sweets. Misbehaved children used to be left rotten potatoes in their shoes, but like the other Scandinavian children, Icelandic kids are perfect.

It’s no accident that Norway, Sweden and Iceland’s grotesques evolved from devils reflecting the ever-present devil that is the unforgiving climate of Nordic winters.

Continue reading in this week’s Ireland’s Own Christmas Holiday Double Issue